


Philophobia

by Fandom_Trash224



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Implied/Referenced Underage Drinking, M/M, Past Child Abuse, Slow Burn, and i haven't written anything good enough to be published for a while, please be gentle i've never written these characters before, so this is a weird very specific au i've concocted
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-31
Updated: 2017-01-28
Packaged: 2018-09-13 18:29:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9136237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fandom_Trash224/pseuds/Fandom_Trash224
Summary: Jesse McCree had been on the run nearly his whole life. On the run from his family, on the run from bullies, on the run from the law, you name it, he's run from it. But sometimes, you can't run from your problems, and Jesse must learn to take his somewhat strange punishment with a grain of salt.





	1. Mistakes were Made

There were few things that Jesse McCree was afraid of. He would admit things made him uncomfortable, or squeamish, but never afraid. Storms? They would surprise him sometimes, startle him, but he wasn’t afraid of them. The dark? Not since he was really little. Guns, violence, death? He faced that every day, he even had a gun of his own, ironically named a peacekeeper.

No, out of everything that people were afraid of, the only thing that scared him out of his wits, that kept him up at night, was getting caught.

All his life, he had been on the run from someone. When he was seven, it was his horrible family and their wicked sharp tongues and numbing hits. When he was nine, it was the neighborhood bullies, trying to take his lunch money and casting him out from any friends he made by spreading lies and rumors.

When he was twelve, though, that was the first time he had been on the run from the law, the first time his punishment would be worse than a bruise or more awful rumors. He could’ve been arrested, thrown in jail, become branded as a “juvenile delinquent” for the rest of his life, all because he had accidentally stolen some shitty food from a convenience store. Well, some food and some money from the man that had been in front of him in line that had fallen out of the man’s pocket. When the police had come knocking at his foster home, he had taken all he could pack in a small briefcase and booked it out of the apartment’s fire escape. He had run and run until he couldn’t hear sirens anymore, hitching rides and taking odd jobs on ranches and farms, never once looking back.

Now, Jesse was seventeen. Fresh out of the Deadlock gang (really, just a group of other delinquents like himself, the oldest one just hitting 20), he was doing his own thing. He had only one year left until he was a legal adult, only four years until he didn’t need a fake I.D. just to get a glass of bourbon, and now, he was probably only seconds away from having his freedom being revoked from him.

Should he have pickpocketed that green-haired kid from the arcade? No, the kid looked like he was 15, maybe he needed money. Did he? Yes. If had known that the kid was one of the heirs to a very wealthy and vaguely corrupt business, would he have pickpocketed him? Hell no.

But, much to Jesse’s dismay, he had, in fact, stolen from one of the two children of the owner of the Shimada Corp., and Jesse figured he was probably, no, definitely, going to end up in a black body bag. Either that, or face-down in a ditch.

Jesse, being the somewhat decent person he was, figured that he could probably return the wallet, saying he found it somewhere, or even saying that the kid had dropped it.

Now that he was sitting outside of the head Shimada’s office, his cowboy hat in his hands and his gun left behind where he was staying, he silently cursed at himself for not being a heartless criminal and just taking the wallet and running. Though, part of him figured they’d find him regardless, seeing as everyone that had ever crossed the Shimadas ended up disappearing, regardless of how far away they were from them.

Jesse sighed, looking around the waiting room anxiously. He briefly glanced at the doors leading to the elevators, thinking about just dropping the wallet and running, but two guards were stationed on either side of the doors, one of them giving him a hard look.

Jesse looked away quickly, opting to look at the carpet on the floor. He fiddled with the brim of his hat anxiously, the minutes ticking by in his head.

When the doors to the office opened, Jesse almost leapt out of his seat, his entire false story just on the tip of his tongue. What he was met with, rather than the CEO, was someone who, although a bit shorter than him, seemed to be about his age.

Jesse wasn’t completely blown away by him, but he wouldn’t deny that the other was handsome. The way his black hair seemed to fall gracefully across his shoulders and the way his dark eyes seemed to be trying to either burn him or freeze him at the same time caused just about every excuse Jesse had ready to fly out the window.

The shorter man cleared his throat. Jesse had been staring. He managed to stammer out an apology, and the other coldly accepted it (though, something told Jesse he didn’t really accept it).

“My father is ready to see you now,” he said in an equally cold tone “I recommend that you not act like a fool in front of him; it may just seal your fate.”

And with that, the young man walked past Jesse, through the doors past the bodyguards, and presumably to the elevators. Jesse took a small gulp, put his hat on, and walked into the office, trying to discreetly wipe the sweat off from his palms.

Upon entering the office, Jesse felt two sets of eyes suddenly on him. One set of eyes belonged to the young boy he had stolen from, who had a slightly annoyed pout on his face. Probably a spoiled brat.

The other set belonged to an older man, or at least an older-looking man (Jesse had learned to not judge age by looks alone, he’d lost way too many jobs that way). His long black hair was tied up into a topknot, streaks of grey racing through it. His cold, sharp gaze tore through Jesse like a bullet through flesh. He involuntarily shivered as the elder man gestured for him to take a seat, which he did (not really like he had much of a choice). The elder Shimada looked behind Jesse and said something in Japanese that Jesse couldn’t understand. Out of both anxiety and instinct, Jesse glanced behind himself just in time to see another guard exit the office and close the door behind him, and a slight click could be heard. He was locked in.

As soon as the doors locked shut, Jesse returned his gaze to Shimada, whose sharp gaze still pierced him straight to the bone. After a several heartbeats worth of tense silence, the elder Shimada spoke up.

“I was told that you have something that belongs to my son, Genji.”

Jesse looked at the green-haired kid that was now standing next to his father, who has now been confirmed as Genji, the pout still there on his face. Looking back at Shimada, he did his best to work up a convincing grin as he tried to work up the courage to tell his story.

“Yessir. I was at the arcade when a coupla’ fools walked by and started braggin’ that they picked some poor kid dry. Now, I wasn’t about to let them just get away with it, so, when their backs were turned, I nabbed the wallet from ‘em.”

Jesse internally praised himself for getting himself out of trouble once again. He pulled the wallet from his back pocket, holding it out for one of them to take. The elder Shimada looked to his son, and motioned for him to retrieve the item. As Genji took it, his father said,

“You must be a very honorable man, then, Mr. Jesse, to not have taken the wallet for yourself.”

Jesse’s smile stayed steadfast, though he was trying his best not to cringe, seeing as he had been planning on keeping it, but guilt and the fear of getting killed by the Shimadas had gotten the better of him.

“Oh, you know, just doin’ what’s right. Really, it ain’t a big deal.” Jesse let out an awkward chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck.

The elder Shimada allowed a soft smile to pass across his features. He opened his mouth to say something, probably to let him go, but Genji whispered something in his ear, and Shimada’s face hardened again.

“My son tells me,” he said, slowly beginning to stand up and walk around the desk “that there is money missing from his wallet. Care to explain why?”

Jesse’s smile faltered slightly. He knew he shouldn’t have gotten that breakfast but god he had been so hungry and Jesse didn’t have any money, or at least a steady source of income. He couldn’t get a job, seeing as he was still technically on the run, and all the jobs he could get in his position were not jobs he wanted. He needed that money, he didn’t think that they’d notice a couple of dollars missing. Obviously, he had been wrong.

“W-well, they, uh, musta’ taken some of the money from the wallet. I didn’t know how much there was before I got it. Really, I’m sorry I didn’t get it to ya sooner--”

“I do not appreciate being lied to, Mr. Jesse.” Shimada’s tone turned dangerous, his movements were like a predator stalking its prey. Jesse got up out of his chair and started to back away towards the door.

“N-now hold on, Mr. Shimada, I swear I didn’t take any money from the wallet--”

Genji picked out a receipt from the wallet, reading over it. As he did, Jesse held his breath. Please don’t let that be from this morning don’t let that be from this--

Shimada turned to his son, asking Genji something in Japanese, to which the green-haired boy replied with three words that made Jesse realize just how badly he had messed up.

“It’s from today.”


	2. Strike a Deal

Somewhere out there, there was probably a list of everyone who’s ever made a mistake that fucked them over for the rest of their life. A mistake so stupid and avoidable, that if anyone ever had the chance for a do-over of any one moment from their life, they’d choose to go back to that moment above all others.

Jesse figured, in that moment, he was probably at the top of that list.

He was locked in a building with one of the most dangerous men in the world and the son of that man, whom he had just stolen a wallet from a few days ago. Not only had he failed in returning the wallet without being caught, but he had been caught in a _lie_. And now, because he had acted like a foolhardy newbie, he was probably going to be killed. Or tortured. Or both. Probably both.

A nervous chuckle escaped him again.

“N-now, Mr. Shimada, I’m sure we don’t need to resort to drastic measures--”

He kept backing up slowly, even though Shimada seemed perfectly content on staying where he was, still like a statue. It unnerved Jesse even more than if Shimada had been advancing on him.

“I mean, I, uh,” Jesse’s quick wit was short-circuiting, he couldn’t think of what to say “I swear, if I had known it was your son, I wouldn’t have stolen the wallet, so, uh, now that your son has his wallet back, I can just be on my way, and nobody has to--”

Jesse’s back hit the locked door and he gulped. Shimada barked out an order, and Jesse almost fell backward when the door was opened, but he was grabbed by a man much larger than him. Jesse’s first instincts were to fight, but he was in no way strong enough to break from the guard’s grasp.

He couldn’t run, there was nowhere to go. He left his gun at home, he couldn’t fight. Even if he had brought his gun, there was no way in hell he would’ve made it past the other people in the building. He had to talk his way out, beg, make a dea--  
_Make a deal._

“Mr. Shimada--”

He felt himself being slowly dragged out of the room. He had to make this quick.

“Maybe I can pay you back!”

Shimada gave him a skeptical look, and gestured for his guard to stop. Jesse was let go.

“You have one minute. Go.”

Jesse took a breath.

“Okay, so I will admit to taking the wallet, and I apologize for lyin’ about it. I’ll admit I was a bit yellow when I got here. However, I was very low on funds, an’ the fact that your son was so easily stolen from tells me that maybe you have a security issue of some sort.” Shimada looked almost offended at the accusation, but the look on his son’s face told Jesse that he was probably right.

“So,” Jesse continued, “I humbly ask that, instead of you killin’ me, you hire me so that it don’t happen again, and I pay off my debt through work. You don’t even have to pay me much, just enough to live life without having to resort to such, uh, drastic measures.”

Once Jesse finished speaking, Shimada looked Jesse up and down. Now, even though he had been doing various odd jobs for most of his life, many involving labor, Jesse was not all that muscular, but he wasn’t quite skinny either. Either way, he wasn’t exactly the pique of physical strength, but he was fairly witty, not to mention damn good with a gun. He even had gotten his hands on flashbangs once, not that he’d use them willy-nilly. He also knew how most petty criminals worked. After all, he was one. Jesse just prayed Mr. Shimada was thinking about it like that.

Once he seemed satisfied with himself, spoke to the man behind Jesse in Japanese. The door shut behind Jesse again, the lock clicking once again. Jesse let out the breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding.

“Alright Mr. McCree. I will give you a two month trial. If you do not meet even my lowest standards, you will be terminated. Understand?”

Jesse nodded, slowly moving away from the door. “Yessir.”

“While you have this job, you cannot reveal anything you may hear, no matter how, how shall we put it, _morally dubious_ it may sound, do you understand?”

Again, Jesse nodded, though this time he grimaced. He truly had gotten himself into a pickle, hadn’t he?

“Well then, Mr. McCree,” Shimada said, holding out his hand for Jesse to shake “I believe we have a deal. We can discuss payment after your assignment is given.”

Jesse shook the man’s hand, expecting it to feel smooth, but it was rather calloused and rough, as if he had done nothing but work with his hands his whole life. Once both hands were retracted, Shimada turned around to return to his desk.

“We will contact you once we have everything settled. Until then,” Shimada glanced back to Jesse “I recommend you try not to leave the city, or contact the police about what happened here. It would be a shame to lose a potential employee.”

(*)

As soon as Jesse left the building, he made a beeline straight for the nearest payphone. He was lucky enough to have found leftover change in the change dispenser. But who could he call? Police were out of the question, Shimada would probably kill him before he even got hold of the operator. He didn’t have family, or at least not any he was in contact with (or wanted to be in contact with). There was one person he could call, but he was fairly sure that they wouldn't approve of his situation whatsoever.

Although, he could have a place to spend the night in the city if he called them, maybe they could even bail him out. They helped him get out of the Deadlock Gang, after all.

With a sigh of defeat, Jesse leaned up against the booth and dialed the number. He hoped the person he was looking for would pick up. God forbid if he had to explain his situation to--

“This is the Overwatch family and friend help line, Ana Amari speaking”

_Aw, hell._

“Hey Miss Amari, ‘s me, Jesse? Jesse McCree?”

“McCree? How have you been? Last time we spoke was when you boarded the plane for Hanamura!”

Jesse let out a slight chuckle. “Not going to lie, Miss Amari, I’m in a bit of a, uh, sticky situation. I don’t suppose you’d be willing to patch me through to Gabe? I happen to be in the same city I’m fairly sure he’s got a hideout in.”

Jesse could almost feel the mom glare that Ana was giving through the phone. Undoubtedly, she wanted to know what was going on, but Jesse needed to get in touch with Gabe ASAP.

“Alright Jesse, but I hope you know that I will ask Gabe what's going on.”

“Miss Amari please, I'm _fine_ \--”

“Just because you're not my child doesn't mean I can't worry about you.”

Jesse let out a huff, but he couldn't help but smile.

“Alright Miss Amari. Can I talk to Gabe now?”

“Alright Jesse. Stay safe, though, okay?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Patching you through.”

As the line switched from Ana to Gabe, Jesse felt his hairs stand on end. Gabe was in a bad mood, probably just off of a fight with Morrison. No wonder Amari had picked up first.

“What is it? I'm busy.” Was the first thing out of Gabe’s mouth. Jesse’s feeling had been right. Gabe sounded annoyed. Jesse almost hung up, not wanting to deal with angry Reyes, but he didn't have anywhere to go, or any money to rest somewhere.

“Howdy, Gabe. It's Jesse, Jesse McCree? You--”

“McCree? Yeah, I remember you. Deadlock, right?”

“Yessir, that, uh, would be me.” McCree said, trying to sound at least semi-casual about the situation. God, maybe he should've talked to Ana. Either way, he knew they'd have his ass on a silver platter.

“It's good to hear from you kid. How have you been?”

“Not going to lie, sir, I, uh, ain't doin’ so hot.”

Jesse thought he could hear shuffling over the line, like someone was standing up or moving papers around.

“What's going on?” Gabe asked, a hint of worry to his tone. Jesse sighed, and explained what had happened with the pick-pocketing of the Shimada heir and the meeting that morning.

When he was all finished, the line was dead silent. Jesse was worried that he had run out of time on the phone.

“Sir--”

“ _Dios mío, McCree_ ” Gabe said. Jesse almost pictured Reyes running his hands through his short, curly hair. “What in the hell have you gotten yourself into?”

“I don’t rightly know, sir” Jesse replied, frowning, “but it ain’t good.”

“What do you need, McCree?”

“I need a place to stay, preferably one in this city? It don’t got to be fancy or nothin’, just a place to live for about a month or two.”

Jesse could hear more paper-shuffling, like Gabe was looking for something.

“I think I can hook you up with an old safe house. We haven’t done any business in Hanamura since the Shimadas took power, so it should be empty,” Gabe said, then added in a hushed whisper “Since you’re technically not official Overwatch personnel yet, I’m going to have to hide this from Jack, so try not to do anything that will catch anyone’s attention while you’re there.”

“You say ‘yet’ like I’m gonna join up with all y’all” Jesse observed “I already told you, I don’t do bounty hunting. Too many risks.”

“Says the kid that pick-pocketed an heir.”

“Don’t be such an ass. Where’s the safe house located, anyways?”

Gabe gave him an address, and some quick instructions on how to get in, and Jesse’s time finally ran out on the phone. With a sigh of relief, he started to make his way to the safe house.

(*)

The place wasn't posh by any stretch of the imagination. It was an old, run-down house just on the outskirts of town. It was a hell of a walk, but Jesse managed to get there without too much trouble. When Jesse had walked inside, he had been pleasantly surprised to find that the outside looked worse than the inside, though not by much. The smell of dust and mildew hit Jesse like a wall.

“Damn,” he said to himself, using his shirt as a way to block the smell, “Gabe wasn’t kidding when he said they hadn’t been here.”

He walked into the old house, the floor creaking under his weight. How the hell was he going to live here for two months?

“ _Now McCree,_ ” A voice in the back of his head chided him “ _You know you’ve seen worse conditions. You were in Deadlock, remember?_ ”

He sighed heavily, and set down the bag he had brought from the area he had been hiding out in (it wasn’t so much an area, as it was an alley in downtown Hanamura that he managed to claim for himself). This old place would have to do, at least for a little while.

When Jesse had arrived at the house, it had been about noon. He spent most of the rest of the day trying to make a small living area for himself. He managed to snag an old mattress and some halfway decent pillows, but all the blankets were beyond repair. It was a good thing Jesse always kept around his old serape (even if the old smell of cigars and campfires made him homesick). That old thing was a fairly good blanket in emergencies.

He already had a small supply of food and water, but he was silently hoping that Shimada would at least give him some free meals during his trial period. Part of him doubted Shimada wouldn’t, but what did Jesse know? He wasn’t a Shimada.

Once Jesse managed to properly settle himself in as best as he could, the full gravity of the situation started to press in on him. He was in a foreign country that was partially run by a sketchy business with no money, no way out, and was now being forced to work for said business, the alternative being that he was killed for dishonoring the family in charge of it.

To top it all off, he had gotten _caught_. His worst fear had been realized. He had been, quite plainly, a fool.

His memory briefly flashed back to when the young man had told him to not act that way, and he almost forgot that he was sleeping in the slums. Those icy-hot eyes and the sharp elegance that he possessed was something Jesse had not had time to fully take in at the time, seeing as he was doing his best not to just try and bolt out the door.

He sighed. He needed to get some sleep, he was probably going to work in the morning.


End file.
